Telly Hell

Proper blog today. Although it could easily be have been three paragraphs of me trying to figure out what random brain disease caused the British Comedy Awards to give Peter Kay the Oustanding Achievement in Comedy Award. I suppose it is an outstanding achievement that a man has released the same stand-up set on three different DVD’s which basically screams ‘stupid fucking idiots’ at his fans, thats he’s who’s only written one good TV show, which was co-written by two other people that Kay never gives credit too, and that he’s repeatedly has treated other performers with the same disregard as he might for a side order to pizza that no one else finds funny ever, is somehow still treated with respect. Its a shame, as unlike in previous years the BCA’s seemed to only partly shit on comedy this year. There were well deserved awards to Graham Linehan, Psychoville and In The Loop, all proving that decent comedy is respected. I was particularly pleased with In The Loop as it showed that someone out there realises intelligent political comedy with a very funny script and great acting is superior to Sacha Baron Cohen showing his ballsack to people. Who would’ve thought? Of course I’d also have liked to have seen Stewart Lee get the best Live Stand-Up Comedian, but sadly we all knew it was going to McIntyre. I’m by no means a fan of McIntyre, but he is very good at what he does. Its just a shame what he does is saccharine-fueled family friendly unchallenging toss. Layla actually cringes when he’s on telly. Its an amazing thing to see, like a someone being stared at by Medusa. She all sort of seizes up and pulls faces as though she’s just been forced to suck lemons. She says its his voice. And face. And hair. Either way, it pleases me lots.

I’m getting into this whole Saturday night staying in, eating and watching telly type thing. It makes me feel almost like a normal person. Sadly I’ve realised that aside from the Thick Of It, the average normal person is horribly patronised by large amounts of torrid viewing on a Saturday night. Last night the viewing flicked between watching not every famous people dance, and people who will soon be not very famous, sing. The soon to not be famous singers had the luck, last night, of singing with famous but needing a career boost singers. The girl who is a live action version of Disney’s Goofy got to sing with Michael Buble, who is quite possibly the most creepy human being on the planet. He appears to something wrong with his face that means even when he’s singing happy songs, he appears to be imagining how he might commit some sort of prejudiced violence. He was only out creeped by George Michael who looks ever more and more like he could be running a dodgy kebab shop. He got to sing with an androgynous child who no doubt wishes he was grooming, while Robbie Williams sang with himself but with a slightly swollen face. Then some other people all slapped each other on the back lots and Simon Cowell dipped his cock into a pot of money as other idiots spent money calling in to say boygirl and bigface were better than stupid one.

Then there was the British Comedy Awards, followed by the aftershow party on ITV2 which was hosted by some woman who didn’t know anything about comedy, or presenting, or cameras, or holding her face still. There was also Leigh Francis as Keith Lemon trying his best to suck humour from the atmosphere like a comedy vacuum. Yet I still watched. I watched all of these programs and ate a baked potato while doing so. Next Saturday I am gigging. While it might be seen that I am entertaining those who have chosen to have a night out, I think infact they are saving my brain from stopping oxygen flow to itself in order to drown out the televisual horrors I’ve submitted it too.

Wow, today’s blog was angry. It wasn’t meant to be. I’m going to see Where The Wild Things Are later today which has got me very excited. Especially as I’ve been looking for them for ages.

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